I remember running up a hill madly, tucking my new (to me) rescue mission shirt into my pants. The shirt had bold purple and yellow stripes which clashed hopelessly with a gray checked sports coat, the kind the homeless sometimes wear. I dashed into the hotel, walked down a long hall and into a bright and glitzy room. Hundreds of people had come to wish Camilla farewell famous Hollywood types in perfect clothes and jewels, and old friends and colleagues who knew her well. There was delicious food and shimmering glasses of champagne. People were talking and laughing, and everyone was very polite.

I struck up a conversation with a dear friend of Camilla’s. She laughed, “George, you don’t look so good”. I looked down: shirt, bad; jacket, bad: pants and shoes – oops…

I had forgotten to change out of my work clothes, garlic oil stained khaki shorts, worn out socks, and old scuffed shoes… I looked up and over across the room. Camilla sat in a big chair with a dozen friends and admirers all around, their faces illuminated by a light that radiated deep within… Camilla Williams Behn. I turned to move toward her… RING… Dale’s alarm went off. It was 6 AM and time to start another day at the Big E.

We will miss you Camilla, more than you know. Probably more than we know. Happy days, Happy heart.